


what's up with you guys?

by brooklynisosm



Category: The Outsiders - S. E. Hinton
Genre: Boyfriends, Depression, Fluff, Just a thing I wrote, M/M, One Shot, Sexuality Crisis, Why Did I Write This?, ponyboy is valiantly third-wheeling, smol johnny
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-28
Updated: 2016-05-28
Packaged: 2018-07-10 16:44:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6996280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brooklynisosm/pseuds/brooklynisosm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>a thing i wrote. johnny has depression. dally's the reason he doesn't go in the school bathroom and slit his wrists. also they accidentally act like boyfriends in front of ponyboy because they are unspoken boyfriends i am sure of it.<br/>*written in all lowercase letters because johnny is smol and has low self-esteem and thinks in lowercase*</p>
            </blockquote>





	what's up with you guys?

johnny cade was often sad, but people didn’t tend to notice. 

not that nobody cared about him; he knew some did. but johnny was always the one to make everyone else feel better, so pure and good to everyone that he forgot he wasn’t. the truth was, he was miserable. so, so tired, depressed. he’d been told he was worthless more times than he could count, and he’d been told that someone loved him a number of times he could easily count which was zero. when he said kill me now to his friends, when he faked putting a gun to his head and pulling the trigger, when he mumbled about wanting to die, he wasn’t just talking. 

everything johnny said had a purpose. he didn’t speak enough to say meaningless things. 

johnny was silently suicidal, and not even pain could bring him back to reality at this point. pain was just another constant in life, more reliable than sleeping or eating. 

in school, he didn’t listen. johnny knew he was dumb and there was no point trying to change that. his mind drifted to ponyboy. ponyboy was good at everything. school and drawing and having a good family and being good-looking and...johnny was good at nothing besides getting beat up. the part where he almost cried but managed to keep it down was his specialty. 

the switchblade in his back pocket wasn’t allowed on campus, but neither was alcohol and there was a lot of it in two-bit’s locker so whatever. the hilt of the blade pressed into his lower back, not an annoyance as much as a reminder of how he could go into the school bathroom right now and slit his wrists if he got a hall pass. would school be cancelled if they found a dead boy in the bathroom? at least his final gift could be getting pony out of that physics test. 

no. they’d stop school if they found a soc dead in the bathroom. johnny wasn’t important enough to merit cancellation. 

he decided not to kill himself today. dally was driving them home after school in someone else’s car. there were often times when johnny was sad, but riding shotgun next to dally going twenty miles an hour over the speed limit was not one of them. 

thinking of dallas winston kept johnny alive, and admitting it made him want to die even more. 

stop it, johnny.

stop it johnny

just stop-

he knew what he felt about dallas was not friendship. ponyboy was his best friend and his emotions had never been a third as brittle and confusing as they were around dally. a friend didn’t thrill at the slightest affirmation and cry at an edge of anger when he was used to such conflicting reactions from anyone else. a friend didn’t wonder if there was some rare heart condition triggered by dallas winston and only dallas winston. a friend didn’t stare from the passenger seat at dally driving and look at his face and his hair and his eyes and think wow wow wow. 

johnny’s feelings scared him. am i sick?, he thought, am i sick and that’s what makes me feel like this? he knew there must be something wrong with him because sodapop and steve and two-bit and even pony talked about girls the way johnny thought about dally. almost in awe. johnny had once listened to soda talk about sandy for an hour and each word soda said convinced johnny more of his own sickness. "she’s beautiful," soda had said, "and smart, and tuff." he’d looked up then, with a kind of pure emotion johnny had never seen in his eyes. "i love her, johnny," soda had said, "this is more than just digging her, you know. i really love her." 

"how can you tell you love someone?" johnny had said.

"you just know. you just feel it. when you dig someone it’s kind of unsure, but love is the truest thing i can think of."

dally was really tuff and the smartest person johnny had ever met. and he was beautiful, too. not in the same way as sandy was beautiful. dally’s beauty was his passion. the way he could hate so deeply, the way he was absolutely sure what to do in every situation even if it went up in flames. the rest of the gang though dally’s temper was dangerous but johnny saw the heat of those normally frigid eyes and ran right in. 

he was burning from the inside out, but it felt frighteningly good to hurt. johnny let himself feel the pain, because suffering was the symphony of his life and the violin players were getting really good, and because he, wrong and sick as he was, deserved it. 

johnny told himself it was admiration. just this- dallas was strong and he was not; dallas was everything johnny wished he could be and his increased pulse was merely a side effect of the veneration he had for his friend. how fun it was to play pretend, an endless game of controlling his stares and praying that nobody noticed that his feelings went beyond simple friendship. he adored dally. 

and there was absolutely nothing he could do to change that. so he sunk into confusion and shame and wished that he was better. 

he suffered through a math class that might as well have been taught in a different language. solve the inequality. greasers were lesser than socs. socs were greater than greasers. he understood the concept of inequality. but when asked to show it visually, to put it on a number line, it was impossible. numbers couldn’t describe mustangs and madras against blue jeans and poverty. he was dumb. better at words than numbers, but not very good at words, either. 

model the slope on a graph. the only slope johnny could remotely trace was his own decline into misery. he wondered if he could just stand up and walk out of class. not even wait for a hall pass. just go. 

do it all again. problem after problem. when would this worksheet end? johnny thought bitterly that socs got longer worksheets, but their problems were much easier. they had more time to solve them, too. johnny’s math worksheet was short and hard and he wondered if he should give up before he even got to the bottom of this page; it wasn’t like he’d get a reward at the end. he’d still earn bad grades in his classes and be slapped by his mother whenever she read his report card. 

the bell was shrill and cacophanos. johnny had never heard a more beautiful sound. 

 

dally was waiting for them in the parking lot, smoking and intimidating anyone who saw him. he was a vision with his feet kicked up on the dashboard, his dirty sneakers seeming like the shoes of a king. his hair was like his temper- untamed and messy, easily changed with the winds but never in a way that adults would approve of. 

ponyboy had always said that he didn’t understand why dallas could get so many girls; he was mean and scary and not even good-looking. johnny thought ponyboy must be blind to think dally wasn’t good-looking, but he didn’t say that. no need to make more trouble for himself. 

“ponyman!” dally said, causing pony to scowl. quieter, his pale eyes flicking up, he said, “hey, johnnycake.”

“hey.” johnny said. 

dally swung his feet from off the dashboard and pushed himself up with both hands, holding his cigarette in his mouth. 

they followed the unspoken code. ponyboy sat in the backseat, as he did when anyone was driving. johnny sat in the passenger seat, as he did when dally was driving. 

“how was the torture shack?” dally said, putting the keys in the ignition. his eyes flicked up to johnny again and johnny caught the edge of a grin. “uh, i mean school.”

“you don’t even know what school is like.” ponyboy grumbled. “you can’t say if it’s a torture shack or not.”

“johnny’s told me enough.” dally said, turning the keys. 

“johnny doesn’t talk.” ponyboy said. this was an exaggeration. johnny did talk, but it was hard and he preferred to just listen. 

“johnny talks, just not to you.” dally pushed his foot on the gas pedal and they jolted forward. he made it out of the lot in a way that was unsafe and probably illegal. two-bit had said that dally had never actually learned to drive. nobody argued. 

 

“he talks to me plenty.” pony said once the car was in less danger of crashing. 

“just ‘cause i’m mute don’t mean i can’t hear you.” johnny crossed his arms. “school was normal.” 

“meaning terrible.” dally said. 

“i got an A on that essay i wrote for english.” pony said. 

“it was fine, dally.” johnny insisted to a frowning dallas. 

“that means it wasn’t.” dally said. 

“do you even care?” ponyboy stuck his head between the two front seats.

“i ran out of cigarettes, that’s all.” johnny lied. 

dally took the cigarette out of his mouth and handed it to johnny. 

“what’s up with you guys?” ponyboy said. he was staring at dally almost anxiously. he’d never seen dally do something unselfish. this was new. pony leaned farther forward, craning his head between the two older boys’ arms and looking with interest at the cigarette in johnny’s hand. 

“damn you, ponyboy.” dallas said by ways of answer. 

“thank you.” johnny said. ponyboy’s mouth fell open. “oh, not about you, pony.”

“johnny.” ponyboy pushed himself as far as he could go without strangling himself with the seatbelt. he’d have unbuckled but there was a darry voice in his head lecturing just by him thinking it. “guess what.”

“you got your annoying little face smashed in by the wandering arm of dallas winston.” dally said, speeding up as they passed a stop sign. 

“i was talkin’ to this girl in my class,” pony continued, ignoring dally, “and she said she thinks you’re cute.” 

the car screeched to a halt. ponyboy hit his face on johnny’s seat. “ow!” he cried. “what the hell, dally?” 

“red light.” dallas pushed his light hair back, revealing darkened eyes. 

“you never stop at red lights.” pony said. 

johnny turned to look at dally. he said with a careful tone, “that’s nice of her.” 

“real nice but the only folks who call anyone cute are socs.” dally’s knuckles were white under his skin; he held tight to the steering wheel. 

“what’s wrong with that?” pony said.

“socs are the goddamn enemy.”

“you flirt with ‘em all the time.” 

johnny shrunk in his seat. he didn’t like it when pony and dally bickered, especially about things to do with him, and he didn't like hearing about dally's love life either. he put dally’s cigarette in his mouth, trying not to think about the fact that it had been touching dally’s lips. if he remembered that too much, his blush would spread past his cheeks into his entire body. 

the argument continued, with johnny’s discomfort growing every second. finally, he burst out, “just stop it, okay?”

the car fell into silence. the only thing that could get pretty much anyone in the gang to stop whatever pointless fight they were having was johnny asking. 

there were a few minutes of awkward- ponyboy tapping his fingers on the back of johnny’s seat, johnny putting his lips where dally’s had been, dally driving. 

then, “you have trouble with any socs and i’ll pound them into their own damn cardigans. straight to hell. just tell me.” dally said with his eyes trained on the street. 

johnny looked up. he knew dally wasn’t lying, and that made him uneasy. “dally-” 

“i’m itchin’ for a fight. we ain’t had a rumble for months. you cold?”

johnny was indeed cold, shivering in the chilled wind that blew his hair back from his head except for his bangs, which were, as always, flicking into his eyes. 

“i’m fine.” johnny said too fast. 

they stopped at the next red light. dally took off his jacket and threw it at johnny’s (cute) face. 

johnny put it on.

ponyboy stared.

johnny smiled a little. the jacket had retained some of dally’s body heat. it was too big on him; he wrapped himself in it and watched Tulsa pass by. the day had been awful. tonight would be awful. but in this moment, he knew someone loved him. 

it was unconventional and wrong and ponyboy’s eyes were like saucers and it was perfect. 

his misery forgotten for a minute, he leaned his head back on the seat and closed his eyes. he smiled softly, letting his confusion blow away with the wind. for once in johnny's life, he knew where he belonged.


End file.
